


I Always Win

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bunniverse, In which case this sucker has a LOT of plot, Light Bondage, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polygamy, Threesome - M/M/M, Unless you call Elves discovering the magic of facial hair a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 10:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10717200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Fingon wants to make a point, and he's much more hands-on when it comes to debates.  Therefore, compared to Erestor's typically verbal approach... well, read the title.  You get the idea.





	I Always Win

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely a companion piece to The Special Thing.

“So I was right after all.”

“Mmmmnnnnnhhh…”

“Perhaps next time you will not be such a naysayer to my sage advice. You are not really that much older than I am, you know.”

“Uhhhnnn...aaa-aaahhhnnnnmmm…”

Fingon was on his side, propped up by his right elbow. His caresses whispered across Erestor’s skin, and every now and then his left hand lazily wandered down to Erestor’s chest to gently tease or mercilessly twist a nipple, or two. When he was not encouraging Erestor in his attempts to buck his hips, he was calming him with flirty nips and nuzzles at his throat, and endearing words about him, and their currently occupied companion.

“I think he is enjoying this as much as you are,” drawled Fingon. “Do you think he can hear you under there?” asked Fingon, and his hand slid down to touch the form beneath the covers, rhythmically rising and falling. “I do hope he can. We should make sure.” Fingon sat up to free his right hand. As he leaned over Erestor, the ends of his hair dragging over bare skin, Fingon bowed his head to suckle first at one nipple, and then the other, and to tug on them with his teeth. Erestor whimpered and turned his head to one side, and then to the other. His attempts to move away from either lover were futile -- his hips were held down by Glorfindel, and his wrists were restrained, tied to the bedpost somewhere between the second glass of wine and his doubts that Glorfindel’s facial hair would in any way add to his pleasure that evening.

“Now, if that feels good,” mused Fingon rather loudly, “I wonder what would happen if he flipped you over and--”

The sudden rustle of the coverlet caused Fingon to rise up on his knees and lean out of the way as Glorfindel shoved away the bedclothes and took a deep breath. He wiped the back of his hand across his face to capture some of the moisture from his damp beard. “Flipping him over would be problematic,” decided Glorfindel, who had already devised a solution. He took hold of Erestor’s ankles, and used them to bend Erestor’s knees. Erestor’s hips were soon above his torso. His backside exposed, Erestor grunted and squirmed over the awkward position. He appeared about to protest, but that was before Glorfindel plunged his tongue right into the tight passage in search of Erestor’s prostate. Grunts turned into groans and wanton whimpers of delight.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” commented Fingon as he settled down on his side again. “This is the sweetest music. You are my favorite instrument,” he crooned into Erestor’s ear. “Muscles stretched, tight, ready. And how exquisite, the way Fin manages to play your body. How utterly in tune he is with you. And how you sound,” he drawled. “Oh, I had such an idea -- such a wonderful idea -- to have him come ‘round here. You could suck on his magic flute for a while while he blows your horn, BUT. No. If he does that, I miss out on this sinfully sensual symphony.”

“Shit,” huffed Erestor as Glorfindel sat back on his haunches to lower Erestor’s body and take a break. “Fin has me onYou are fucking me with your words, Kano.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no, that is not fucking, my dear. That is merely foreplay. If you want me to be a--” Fingon looked to Glorfindel, who was flicking something off of his tongue. “I suppose the cunning linguist joke really only works with women.”

“I highly doubt he cares right now if your clever banter aligns with his genitalia,” countered Glorfindel.

“Noted.” Fingon nipped Erestor’s ear to gain his attention once again. “If I wanted to, I could make you come just by talking to you. Glorfindel could sit back and watch as you writhe and listen to me, because I have a talented tongue, too. Mmmhmm, yes, but my words will need to conspire with your imagination, and conjure up the sensations you already know. The feelings you crave, deep in the pit of your belly, deep, deep inside.” 

“You want him to touch you again, not only sexually, not just to press inside, his tongue moist, sliding, gliding, stretching and straining, taunting your taut, wanting, wakening needfulness. You want his fingers on your flesh, pressed into your skin, holding you down, at his mercy, surrendering. You render yourself submissive with playful yet subdued resistance -- you want him to overpower you. You need him to dominate you.” Fingon’s voice shed it’s smooth undertone and he growled words into Erestor’s ear. “You want his cock so far in that you feel the shaft rub against your spine. You want him to thrust hard, and deep, and rough -- not only because you like it that way, but because it gives you an excuse for moans, groans, whimpers, and wails. You tremble with the anticipation, the excitement, the fucking thrill of being with another man. You wanted that so bad, for so long, it still seems decadent, and succulent, and just a little bit dirty.”

Erestor made the first noise since losing contact with Glorfindel -- a gasp threaded with a muted whimper -- and he turned his head to look away from them and hide his glowing cheeks. Fingon pursued, and while he did not touch as he hovered over his older lover, his breath tickled Erestor’s ear as he continued. “Maybe you want something else now,” suggested Fingon. “Perhaps tonight you prefer not to feel his climactic eruption inside. Maybe you want him to plunge his tongue into that sweet, tight passage once more. To curl and swirl with such elegant dexterity as he delves deeper, as deep as he can reach. I wonder how you feel about his beard now, and the way it caresses your skin. I must think it a delight, for your balls to bounce against his upper lip, to be so uniquely stimulated as he probes further with his tongue.”

“You realize that torturing him is doing the same to me.” Glorfindel was on his knees, and leaned back slightly, with his previously mentioned erection in hand. “You can keep talking, but I am going to put one of two things up his quivering ass right now.”

Another hybrid sound of pleasure came from Erestor, and he nodded his head and clenched his fingers. Fingon retreated slightly and motioned that Glorfindel should proceed. 

Glorfindel wasted no time in repositioning himself. He puckered his lips and blew air over Erestor’s length, which reacted with a slight tremor. Glorfindel licked his lips and took Erestor between them. He sucked on the head and lapped up and down the length until it was deep red and stiff. He slid his hands under Erestor’s buttocks, and squeezed them as he flicked his tongue against the tiny entrance. An encouraging moan was all Glorfindel needed to resume his exploration.

“Second movement,” drawled Fingon into Erestor’s ear.

“If I… am the instrument… and Glorfindel… the player...uhhnnn… what are you?” 

“The conductor, of course,” reasoned Fingon. He settled on his own back, and reached down to stroke himself. “I think we should increase the tempo. What say you, Glorfindel?”

Glorfindel sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “We? I am the one doing all the work right now.”

Fingon grasped Glorfindel’s chin and pulled him down to kiss him. As they kissed, Fingon continued to stroke himself, but he lifted a leg and hooked it around Glorfindel’s back. “Because we are trying to prove a point, honey, remember?” He bit his lip and kneaded his fingers against Glorfindel’s cheek. “Shit, this beard is sexy.”

“I might have to keep it for a while if it gets this sort of reaction from you,” murmured Glorfindel. He smiled bemusedly and turned his head to kiss at Fingon’s fingers, which slipped slowly away. 

Fingon’s eyes drifted shut, and he arched his back, moaned twice with his mouth shut, and then parted his lips, body tense, and sighed. His hand dropped back down to the mattress. “You should at least grow it out for the winter.”

“I will take that under advisement. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to finish what I started.” Glorfindel bent his head to kiss Fingon’s nose and lips before he repositioned himself to kneel before Erestor. “I hate to deprive Fingon of your music, but I am so hard at the thought of us going down on each other.”

“Shit…” Erestor, for a moment, forgot that he was restrained, and fought against his bonds to reach Glorfindel. He whimpered with closed eyes and stretched his legs, toes digging into the mattress. He arched his back and rolled his hips in a poetically debaucherous manner. “I really need you---oooo…ahhhh…” Eyes opened to find that Glorfindel had turned himself around, and positioned just a breath from Erestor’s lips was the tip of Glorfindel’s erection. Erestor stretched his neck, but it still was not enough. He stuck out his tongue, and just managed to tease the smooth crown of flesh. 

Glorfindel was knelt over Erestor’s head, which allowed him to easily lean in and resume his previous activities. His hands grasped Erestor’s backside, and keeping him slightly elevated. Each time Erestor managed to flick his tongue across the tip of Glorfindel’s length, he was further rewarded with a little hum from Glorfindel that sent a burst of pleasant tremors through Erestor’s body. A gasp punctuated each episode, and Glorfindel teasingly thrust his hips each time to taunt Erestor.

“Better let him have it, Fin,” whispered Fingon. “He might pull a muscle if you keep it up, and what fun will that be?”

Without pausing to verbally answer, Glorfindel shifted his knees slightly forward. The modest movement meant that Glorfindel’s erection pressed with insistence against Erestor’s lips.

“Here, let me help you with that,” offered Fingon. He was back to a semi-seated position, and with Erestor’s legs slightly elevated, he was able to reach an arm under one knee. It was difficult to find a part of Erestor’s body that was not moist with sweat, slick with oil, or otherwise damp, and so Fingon easily managed to coat a finger in something that helped him to slip it past a clenched muscle to penetrate Erestor.

The immediate outcome of the intrusion was for Erestor to his hips and open his mouth, which resulted in equal penetration that silenced him, except for muffled groans and suckling noises. “You like that? Is that good? You want more?” Every one of Fingon’s questions was met with a euphoric noise from Erestor. “Another one? Like that? Together, or stretching apart, like this? Or maybe… a little deeper? Harder?” Fingon grinned as the noises coming from Erestor, still restricted in volume from the fulness of Glorfindel’s cock. Between Glorfindel’s position and the way Erestor was tied to the posts, he had no way to dislodge Glorfindel, and so Erestor continued to communicate with sounds of pure pleasure.

No words were needed for Glorfindel to know what Erestor was enjoying. He stretched his fingers, dug in, and pulled the rounded, firm flesh apart to allow Fingon better access. Glorfindel also slowly and shallowly thrusted his hips, all while continuing to milk Erestor’s cock with his own mouth.

“My, my… very nice…” Fingon withdrew his fingers when he spied the oil. “An adventurous boy like you seems to like things in threes. Is that right, Eres?”

Erestor whimpered and trembled.

“Of course, in reality, you just handle two at a time,” drawled Fingon, all while rubbing an ample amount of oil over his fingers, keeping his hand in Erestor’s view. “Do you think you could handle three?”

Glorfindel lifted his head. Lips momentarily unoccupied, he took a deep breath and rested his jaw, then gave Fingon a sideways look. “Do it,” he commanded. “He wants it,” he added, and Erestor, still unable to speak an answer, gave just the slightest of nods.

Fingon carefully moved so as not to tangle into anything his companions were doing, all while allowing himself a better angle. Glorfindel eased the firm flesh apart again, this time with his fingertips close to the center, kneading, teasing, causing Erestor’s body to tense with anticipation.

“You are so accommodating. Thank you.” Fingon poured oil into his opposite palm. He coated both hands and nudged his way between Erestor’s legs. He pressed his hands together, index and middle fingers of both hands extended, while the others he curled down, thumbs crossed one over the other. “Why only three, right?” he asked as he eased four fingers into Erestor’s already stretched passage. 

Glorfindel let out a gasp and tilted his head back. Fingon halted all movement. “What just happened?” he asked softly.

“Hap--happening.” Glorfindel’s voice quivered. “He sucks harder… when you do that… so… huhnnn… so…. uuunnnhhh….”

“So… do this?” Fingon resumed his movement, and pressed on. Glorfindel gasped again, then bowed his head once more to take Erestor into his mouth, swollen lips wrapped around the base. “And… this?” Fingon eased his fingers out, only to slide back in, and repeat several times amid the full-bodied frenzy that lead to Glorfindel’s passionate release, and Erestor’s subsequent climax. “Perfect,” decided Fingon as he removed his fingers and reached for an abandoned cloth with which to clean them off.

Glorfindel ran his tongue along the underside of Erestor’s drooping cock, and it twitched for a moment. He crawled up on top of Erestor and sprawled over him. “You always taste good. Inside and out.” Glorfindel rubbed his chin against Erestor’s shoulder. It was wet and sloppy, and Erestor turned his head to kiss Glorfindel. 

With the essence of his own desire now on his lips, he stretched his neck back to look at Fingon, who was slowly untying the rope from the bedposts. “You win,” he conceded.

“Oh, sweety,” cooed Fingon. He paused from his task to scoot closer. His knees were on the pillow, and he had to contort a little in order to steal an upside down kiss from Erestor. “I always win.”

**Author's Note:**

> Working title for this was "Mustache or Not?", a question I posed to several people regarding Elves with beards.
> 
> Written March 6 to April 24, 2017.


End file.
